176 The Return Of The Umbralfiends
In the dark, fathomless depths of the sea, where even the bravest of sailors dared not venture, an ethereal glow pierced the blackness.
Here, in a vast and otherworldly underwater chamber, the ancient race of Umbralfiends gathered in restless anticipation.
Their sinuous forms glided through the water, their scaled skin reflecting the dim, flickering light with an eerie luminescence. Tendrils of swirling power pulsed through the currents, a testament to the terrible strength that lay within these beings of the deep.
At the heart of the gathering, seated upon twin obsidian thrones, were two daunting figures – King Moraxor and Queen Narissara, the undisputed rulers of the Umbralfiends.
Moraxor, his powerful form adorned with the iridescent scales of a thousand hues, sat with an air of haughty pride, his keen eyes surveying the assembled multitude. His broad, angular features bore a regal countenance, and the shifting, abyssal tattoos that adorned his skin marked him as a formidable warrior.
Queen Narissara, her slender, lithe body adorned with armor made from the darkest depths of the ocean floor, was an imposing figure in her own right. With her sleek, aquamarine scales that seemed to dance like the shifting sea, her sharp, calculating gaze betrayed an intelligence and determination that would not be easily quelled.
Her powerful control over the water element and ancient knowledge was feared and respected by all who knew her, and her ruthlessness was matched only by her resolve.
General Vraxos, a towering, fiercely loyal warrior with deep blue, armored scales, and piercing eyes, stood by his king’s side, ready to heed his command. His unwavering devotion to the royal couple and his unmatched prowess in battle made him a force to be reckoned with.
“My king and queen,” Vraxos began, his voice echoing through the cavern like the call of a rumbling earthquake, “our preparations are complete. Our forces are ready to rise from the depths and crush them.”
The murmurs of the gathered Umbralfiends reached a fever pitch as they heard these words.
King Moraxor furrowed his brows and asked Vraxos in a deep voice, “Are you really sure everything is prepared? What about their dragons?”
Vraxos raised the confidence in his tone as if to convince his king as he said, “We have yet to see any dragons, Your Majesty. And—”
“There is no need to worry about unnecessary things. Their dragons are no match for our guardian,” Queen Narissara suddenly spoke up with a fervid look in her eyes.
King Moraxor cleared his throat as he nodded subtly, “I do know that, Narissara. I was only asking for the sake of our people.”
Queen Narissara gave a brief hum before rising gracefully from her throne, her steely gaze sweeping over the assembly. In a voice that commanded attention and respect, she addressed her subjects.
“My brethren, the time has come for us to reclaim what is rightfully ours! We have been left to rot for thousands of years. But the surface-dwellers have forgotten our wrath, and it is time for us to remind them of the power we wield. We shall take back our ancestral lands, and we shall show them the might of the depths! Remember…our ancestors are watching, and we won’t let their sacrifice be in vain.”
King Moraxor took a deep breath as he rose from his throne as well and stepped forward as he said in a deep, sea-shaking voice, “Your queen couldn’t be more right. With our guardian, the Kraken, by our side, there is no stopping us! Today will be the beginning of the fall of the Bloodburn Kingdom.”
“RAAAARRRR!!!” A thunderous roar of approval echoed through the chamber, the fervor of the gathered Umbralfiends surging like a tidal wave.
King Moraxor, maintaining his serious expression, inclined his head solemnly, the very picture of resolute leadership. But deep within the depths of his unreadable gaze, his eyes momentarily flickered.
As the Umbralfiends rallied to the call of their king and queen, the fathomless ocean began to tremble with the gathering storm of their intent.
…
Night had fallen over the northern lands, casting a veil of darkness upon the landscape. Edmund, discontent with his father’s decision to sideline him, had mustered a small band of loyal men, determined to demonstrate his own brutal approach to quell the rebellion. Under the cloak of night, they gathered, blending with the shadows that danced in the flickering torchlight.
Edmund, cloaked in dark blue, addressed his men with an icy tone, “Listen closely. Our task tonight is to strike terror into the hearts of these ungrateful rebels. We shall extinguish their hope and make them understand the cost of their insolence. We will eradicate their families to remind everyone of the price of rebellion. Remember, leave none alive.”
His men, each selected for their loyalty and ruthlessness, nodded solemnly, accepting their grim mission without hesitation. They ventured forth, their footsteps echoing softly in the darkness, as they stalked through the small villages that had given refuge to the rebels.
The first village, unsuspecting and unprepared, was consumed by terror as Edmund and his men descended upon them. They kicked down doors, dragged people from their beds, and silenced their screams with cold steel. The air grew thick with terror and the scent of blood.
“No, please!” a woman begged, shielding her children from the advancing soldiers, “We were only trying to survive! Spare us!”
Edmund glared at her, a twisted smile playing on his lips, “You think just because all of your measly lives were at stake, you all could rebel against your masters? That is an unforgivable offense, and for that, you will all pay the price. Let this be a lesson to you and those who would dare to defy House Thorne.”
One by one, the screams were silenced, and the night air was filled with the distant wails of the dying.
In the center of the village, Edmund’s men piled the lifeless bodies of the rebels and their families, setting the macabre scene alight with torches.
Flames roared into the sky, painting the village in an eerie orange glow, a horrifying testament to the lengths Edmund Thorne would go to in order to suppress dissent.
As the fire crackled and consumed the dead, Edmund gazed at the devastation wrought by his hand, a perverse satisfaction filling his eyes.
He turned to his men and said, “Tonight, we have sent a message that none shall forget. The rebellion will soon be a mere whisper in the wind. Now, we move on to the next village. The night is young, and there is much work to be done. We have to be quick before the Umbralfiends or the Kraken—”
Suddenly, Edmund felt the ground beneath him tremble, and a low, menacing rumble echoed from the nearby sea.
He and his men exchanged uneasy glances, their senses suddenly heightened, gripped by an inexplicable feeling of impending doom.
As they scanned the darkness, the shadows seemed to writhe and twist, gradually revealing a group of a dozen unsettling shadows marching toward them.
Towering figures with slick, dark skin and fearsome aquatic features, they were a chilling sight to behold.
It didn’t take a second longer for Edmund and his men to realize that these were the Umbralfiends!
Leading the group was General Vraxos, one of the strongest warriors whose very presence commanded respect and fear. His gaze landed on the group of vampires ahead as his powerful voice boomed across the battlefield, “Crush these insolent vermin! Let their blood bathe our lands to mark our return.”
Edmund’s shock quickly turned into a defiant rage. He had never imagined he would come face to face with these dreaded Umbralfiends, let alone have the chance to confront them. His men, sensing the danger, implored, “My Lord! Please leave and let us buy you enough time.”
“Only cowards would run away from the battlefield!” snapped Edmund, his pride wounded by their suggestion, “We have the advantage in numbers and strength. If we stand and fight, we can vanquish these monsters and claim victory!” Edmund had already observed that nine out of the ten of them weren’t stronger than him. Only the large one in the front seemed to possess a threat. However, he was confident he could take the big one down using the sheer advantage in numbers.
With that confidence, Edmund rallied his men, and together they launched themselves into battle against the dozen Umbralfiends.
Steel clashed against thick scales and dark magic, and the air filled with the cacophony of war cries and anguished screams.
Edmund’s confidence surged as he struck down two Umbralfiends, his heart pounding with the thrill of battle. But when he turned around, a chilling realization washed over him – all of his men lay dead, save for the single soldier beside him.
Vraxos’ imposing figure stood with one foot on a fallen warrior’s corpse, his deadly gaze fixed on Edmund, “Are you a young lord from House Thorne?” Vraxos growled, recognition dawning in his eyes as he took in the colors and symbol adorning Edmund’s cloak.
Edmund’s hands grew clammy as he gripped his sword, doing his best to steady his voice, “I am. And my House will be the one to eradicate you and your kind.”
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The man’s eyes widened in shock, but he steeled himself and charged forward, weapon in hand to fulfill his duty.
Vraxos barely spared him a glance before crushing his skull with a brutal swing of his glowing mace.
Without even glancing at the crumpling body falling to the ground, Vraxos hurled the mace at Edmund’s fleeing back with devastating force.
Edmund’s eyes widened, and he frantically channeled his mana into a shield to protect himself.
But the impact was shattering and his shield crumbled under the force of the blow, sending him flying through the air before crashing into a nearby cottage.
“Urghh…” He coughed up blood, gasping for breath as the pain wracked his body.
With trembling hands, Edmund clutched a dark blue gemstone, his eyes wide with fear and desperation.
As he crushed the gem between his fingers, a chilling energy radiated from the shattered fragments. The night air grew colder as an eerie dark blue glow filled the area, casting haunting shadows on Edmund’s gaunt face.
From the swirling mass of energy, an undead flying beast took shape. Its large wings, covered in tattered and decaying flesh, stretched out wide, while its lifeless eyes stared ahead with an eerie, otherworldly light.
The creature’s skeletal talons reached down, gripping Edmund’s shoulders firmly as it lifted him into the air, soaring away with a bone-chilling screech.
Vraxos and his Umbralfiend soldiers arrived on the scene moments later, their sinister forms illuminated by the fading blue light. One of the Umbralfiends looked up at the retreating figure in the sky and growled, “What now, General Vraxos? He has escaped!”
Vraxos scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain, “Let the coward flee,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he watched Edmund vanish into the darkness, “His escape won’t change a thing. House Thorne will crumble before us, and all those who stand in our way will share their fate.”
His words hung heavily in the air, a dark promise of the destruction to come. The Umbralfiends exchanged sinister glances, their resolve only strengthened by their general’s unwavering conviction.